


a tale of two runaways, a pet raven, a chameleon in a polo, and a motherfucking horse

by clawsnbeak, crostiina



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Genderswap, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Rapunzel Elements, Strangers to Lovers, and some irish dancing in there too, gansey is a chameleon, robert parrish is a piece of shit as always, there is a lot of shit talk about a horse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20317165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawsnbeak/pseuds/clawsnbeak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/crostiina/pseuds/crostiina
Summary: A princess with magical abilities greater than herself is desperate to leave her tower. A poor girl with powers she doesn’t understand, desperately needs to leave her home that is not a home. What blooms from such an odd pair is both wonderful and fucking hilarious.





	a tale of two runaways, a pet raven, a chameleon in a polo, and a motherfucking horse

**Author's Note:**

> this story comes from a 36-ish hour rampage between writing, editing and laughing at our own jokes. it's also a product of much much love. I hope you like reading it more than we did writing it, because it was a pain in the ass. but a fun one.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was a poor boy, but a special one, beautiful like the sun, with a voice that could make angels and devils alike weep and the power to save and heal. The boy grew up to be a man, and the man met a beautiful, kind, queen, with golden hair and a good heart, too big not to fit all of him inside of it.

Together they brought to the world three princesses, all beautiful like the sun and with voices that could make angels and devils alike weep. Only one of them had their father's magic flowing inside of her, though. That particular princess was now sitting over a window, her legs slipping from under her gown and mindlessly dangling in the air as she leaned to the side, watching the endless mountains and houses and villages she couldn't visit.

It wasn't always like this. There had been a time before the tower. Roselind used to be able to walk around, once, to run with her sisters around the castle, to hear her mother laugh, to be happy and free. But that was before her father was killed for the same powers that she had inherited from him and her asshole sister decided that locking her up would be easier than dealing with both her powers and the grief all of them had to carry. But that was her life, now, alone in a tiny tower with the sole company of a bird, an annoying enchanted history-obsessed chameleon and occasionally her sisters. Usually, the one she liked the least. She sighed, bored and uneasy. The next day, would have been her eighteenth birthday, the whole town was supposed to be filled with laughter, songs, happy citizens dancing decorated in flowers and stars, and she was stuck here.

With a damn chameleon peacefully laying in her lap that kept trying to lecture her on some absurd old foreign king.

“Gansey, I don’t give a shit.”

“But, princess Roselind Neilina Lynch, you see, Glendower was-”

She delicately picked up the creature in one hand and threw it behind her back, laughing at the soft noise it made when it hit the ground without even looking. She was going to be fine. That was the price she had to pay for pulling those full-name shenanigans, Gansey knew it was coming.

Except it didn’t hit the ground at all.

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

That was unexpected. Roselind slowly turned around, already too amused by the situation to be guilty. As she expected, Desdemona stood at the door to the stairwell, extremely pissed off, Gansey dangling from her tail in one hand.

In her defence, she had no way of knowing her sister was coming.

"You should have knocked," she pointed out, pulling her legs from outside the window, so she could stand up. Her sister looked really angry, as she did very often, which was weird, considering she wasn't the one locked up in a tower, but it was also kind of new.

It was also the consequence of time, of pain, of things neither of them had any control over. Sometimes she forgot that another Desdemona existed, once, one that sang with her and told her stories with wide eyes and hand gestures. Sometimes, Roselind missed her very much.

“No. I just shouldn’t have come at all, since you can’t refrain from acting like a child for more than ten seconds.”

Roselind was, indeed, pretty childish, especially when it came to interacting with her sister, but she actually  _ was _ locked inside a tower, which, to her, kind of made for a good reason.

“You’re so right. Thank god I can't be around other people! Who knows what I could do! Thank you, sister, for locking me in!" she sneered, flailing her arms around like some ideal image of a madwoman.

Desdemona didn’t like it one bit, which honestly was fine for her. She didn’t like anything she did anyway.

“Fuck you, Roselind. You know it’s not like that!”

She really did. It wasn’t her sister’s fault, or her mother’s, or Roselind’s. But it was still frustrating, it still crawled under her skin, made her feel wrong, unwanted, impossibly lonely. And it kind of was a bit Desdemona’s fault.

So she slowly walked toward her, feeling the pale blue silks of her dress barely brush over her legs. She was always too skinny for her clothes, she made sure of it by making the process of taking her measurements as hard as it could be. She was already trapped inside a tower, her body had to feel free. A trail of thick, dark curls followed, creating an impressive trail behind her. Roselind raised slowly one hand to her sister’s face, in a slow and almost sweet touch.

“And what is it like, then, slut?

She didn’t really have a reason to call her that. Half the time, she just was mean to her so that she would be mean back, to have a chance to react and act out and punish her in a sly, childish way. She just wanted to make her angry. And she succeeded.

The push came so fast she was almost caught off guard, but not fast enough that she couldn’t get a hold of Desdemona’s dress and drag her to the ground with her.

"I'm fucking locking you up for good, you little shit. Have fun dying alone," she whispered between her teeth, as Roselind quickly pulled hard on her hair, enjoying deeply the way her beautiful and composed face turned into a twisted expression.

In response, Desdemona did the same.

“We’ll finally have something in common, then!” she exclaimed, pushing through the pain and twisting her fingers more in her sister’s perfect hairdo.

Desdemona let out a scream.

“I will  _ end _ you, Roselind.”

It was just too much fun, even if her sister was kind of getting the upper hand, in the hair-pulling competition, since Roselind had just  _ so much _ of it.

“Not if syphilis ends you first, harlot,” she sneered, extremely proud of herself, before abruptly turning around to bite hard at a beautiful, slender, pale wrist.

Indeed, she was extremely childish. 

Desdemona screamed again and pulled both of her hands back, then looked at her with what was pure shock, more than anger.

“Did you just bite me?” she asked, suddenly calm, as if a weird and inexplicable phenomenon had just happened. Now Roselind felt kind of weird about that too.

“Yeah?”

It had felt like a good idea while she was doing it, though.

Desdemona slowly shook her head, trying hard not to laugh. But she did find it funny, it was written all over her face.

She watched her slowly get up and reach the full figure mirror almost abandoned against a wall, to fix her dress and hair. She remained sprawled over the ground, silently admiring her beautiful and mean and beloved sister.

"You know, I really don't enjoy keeping you here. Not even when you're being shitty," she said, her voice uncommonly sweet, almost sad. Maybe she was thinking about her eighteenth birthday too.

Roselind really knew it was the only way. Her sister was forced to become an adult at the age of thirteen when their father died in an attempted abduction. The secret had gotten out, somewhere, and someone had done anything in their power to try and get a hand on the eternal youth trapped into his father hair, his tears, his blood. Nobody could know she carried the same power, nobody had to be able to find her.

Desdemona had done the best she could, as the only support for an extremely fragile mother, an entire kingdom and a bratty sister. She still was, probably.

"I'm not a child anymore. You can't keep choosing in my place, I want to see the world," she pointed out, slowly sitting up to be able to look her straight in the eyes.

“You know nothing about the world.”

“And what do  _ you _ know? You're nineteen years old, Des _ demon _ a," she sneered, raising an eyebrow. She didn't know how Desdemona could even see herself as a sort of maternal figure.

Desdemonia ignored the insult hidden in her name.

“And you’re not even eighteen yet.”

“I will be tomorrow.”

She didn’t need to remind her, Desdemona knew. She also knew what she was gonna say, so she just let her say it.

“I want to go outside.”

Her sister breathed in, slowly, probably contemplating the best set of words to turn her request down.

“Just for one day, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I want to see it.”

Roselind liked to be loud, bothering, inappropriate. She was always too much and that was exactly what she wanted. But those last words came out as a whisper.

Desdemona let her gaze linger over her for a long time, then sighed.

“I’m sorry. I will bring Miriam over here too. We can celebrate together.”

“Fuck you.”

It was mean and uncalled for, but she was also tired and trapped inside a tower. Her sister had to know because she didn't say anything. She just stood there.

"Please bring cake," she whispered, then, hugging her legs to her chest.

Desdemona nodded, then left. The basket she had brought with her was still there, at the door, overflowing with every kind of food and gift. Sometimes it hurt looking at it, imagining the care her sisters had in putting it together.

It still wasn’t enough. She still wanted more.

\---

“You worthless piece of shit.”

This time, when the blow of her father’s fist came, Eva Parrish fell to the ground. There was blood pooling in her mouth, a familiar taste she greeted like an old friend. She gripped the grass underneath her tightly and tried to push herself up. If she stayed down, she would only make him angrier.

Robert Parrish wasn’t a kind man. He wasn’t even a good man. He had a mean demeanour that kept strangers away from their little house on the outskirts of their little village. He scared children and adults alike and thus could do what he wanted. He could demand impossible things from his wife, things she was never prepared to give him, like her daughter, one of the few prized possessions she had. Instead, she was ordered to look away, do nothing, and she wasn’t brave enough to say no.

And now, as Eva was bleeding in their yard, cut all over from one of the many broken bottles that were once filled with alcohol, her mother turned away and closed the blinds, obscuring her from view.

Her father stood over her, simply looking as she struggled to get up. There was no way of saying what she could have done wrong now. Sometimes, she hadn’t cleaned the windows well enough or mowed the grass she was laying on perfectly. Sometimes, Robert Parrish just hit her because he wanted to, because it made him feel powerful and in control.

“You are an abomination,” Robert shouted, his voice booming. 

Eva finally stood, swaying on her feet. It was only now that she noticed the book lying next to her father's worn boots, a book she knew all too well. She had kept it safe under her flimsy mattress, underneath a loose wooden plank in the corner of her room, constantly hiding it in different places so her father wouldn't find out.

And now she had failed.

Her father balled his fists and punched upwards into her stomach. The flare of pain was big enough to make her double over, but she kept her footing. She looked up slowly and there was a rage in her father's eyes that was bigger than there had ever been before. It wasn’t the first time Eva feared for her life, but now death felt closer, ready to take her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t accepted it yet for death was less tortuous than living in this house.

“I’m sorry,” Eva said, her voice pleading. It was the wrong thing to say. Her father’s eyes turned to steel, cold and unforgiving. The next blow landed on her ear. Her world erupted into a blinding pain, one that made her fall to the ground. Eva couldn’t see her little house, the rotten apple tree standing next to it, her world was blurry and near unrecognisable. 

She tried to get up but this time but she didn’t succeed. Everything simply hurt too much and the pain shooting through her body in quick lighting strikes kept her tethered to the soft grass below her.

Her father’s laugh was distorted as the sound travelled further away and it took her a second to realise why. She slowly brought her hand up to her ear and felt around, trying to ignore the gushing bloodstream. She snapped her fingers next to her left ear.

Nothing.

She tried again and again, but there was no sound.

Eva cursed the useless magic running through her veins. There was so little she could do with it. Hours were spent reading the book she had found in the forest near town, days spent trying to do exactly what the instructions said and failing anyway. She could feel it, though, the magic thrumming just beneath her skin. Sometimes she could feel a breeze on her face despite being inside with the windows closed, the faint smell of forest ground meeting her and making her feel at ease, peaceful.

She could make flowers, plants, trees, anything sprouting from the earth grow, feel the earth move underneath her feet as she did. She could feel the magic lines that traced the earth, the energy of them, the power they held.

But she couldn't defend herself, though she had tried. Once. She had never tried again. Eva had been bedridden for days afterwards, still feeling the blows her body had to endure when her father realised what she was doing. She thought she was going to die then and vowed to her father she would never do it again, keep anything magical hidden inside of herself until there was nothing left.

The magic book must have been the last straw, the final act that pushed Robert Parrish over the edge.

Her vision cleared, but only slightly. She saw the faint outline of the book which she grabbed as quickly as she could with the pounding headache that was forming behind her eyes and stowed it in the waistband of her long skirt.

_I can’t stay _ .

And she didn’t.

She stayed outside, waiting for her mother to inevitably force her to go back inside the house, for her father to come back and finish what he started, but nothing came. She looked back at the house one last time, her heart skipping when her mother appeared in the window, staring at her silently. She watched as Eva backed away slowly and ran, disappearing from view within seconds. 

Later, she would tell her husband she hadn’t noticed. She would lie easily with a light heart, relieved her daughter had finally made it out, but bitter she couldn’t do the same. She would forever be stuck in a life she never wanted to live with a husband who now took his anger out on her, a sacrifice she wouldn’t regret to her dying day.

Eva ran as fast as she could, disoriented by the impending darkness of the sky and the faint moonlight casting shadows she couldn't interpret. She fell enough times she was worried that her father would be closing in. Her left ear was still painfully empty of sound, throwing her balance into nothingness.

She stumbled through the forest, the only place she ever called home. Eva could hear a faint rustling in her now deaf ear, a sound both comforting and distracting.

The night was dark and cold, leaving Eva shivering in her threadbare clothes. Low-hanging branches were pulling at her hair and she slipped on the wet leaves more often than she could afford.

The night was growing darker, the trees closing in on her until Eva saw nothing anymore. She ran and ran, sweat pooling on her back. Eva was about to give up and wait for sunrise but then she fell forward, unable to hide the small squeak she let out.

The rustling of the forest didn’t stop once she made it out, stumbling through some bushes to land on her knees in a puddle of water. Eva wrung out her skirt with mild distaste and looked up. There was a tower standing in a small clearing, higher than anything she had ever seen before. It was dark and seemingly empty and right now, it was her best bet of survival. Her father wouldn’t look here, nobody even knew there was a tower hidden among the trees.

She stepped closer and took in the steepness of the tower. It looked like someone had made the tower purposefully unclimbable, so there was nothing she could do but call upon the forest.

_Cabeswater _ , it whispered in her deaf ear. 

_Cabeswater _ , she thought,  _ please help me up _ .

Eva felt the vines growing under the earth, pushing upwards until they broke the surface, winding their way around the smooth base of the tower. 

And then she began her climb.

By the time she had finally made it up and climbed through the open window, she could hardly feel her limbs. The wind had been harsh and biting, leaving her bones stiff and painful. 

Eva dropped down on the floor and curled into herself, not having the energy to try and find a more comfortable place. She collapsed immediately, falling into a dreamless sleep. 

She woke up again, hours later, with a pounding head. For a few seconds, she couldn't remember where she was or what had happened to her, but it all came back quickly enough. The room was fuller in the light, more lived in. Half-empty glasses littered the floor, plates stacking up in the small kitchen, a bed with rumpled sheets.

That’s when she saw her. 

Well, she saw her hair before anything else. Dark, shiny curls filled the room, hanging from nails in the ceiling, draping over chairs. 

But the long hair was immediately expelled from her thoughts when she saw the person to whom it belonged. Pale skin stretched over a lean, skinny body, a jaw that looked sharp enough to cut her violently, high cheekbones below bright blue eyes staring back at her. There was something god-like about her, something that told Eva it was a privilege she was standing in the same room as her. 

She was  _ magnificent _ .

“Who are you?”

\---

Roselind had been told many times that everyone outside her family could be out to get her. Maybe not everyone  _ was _ , but they could be. They could also be dangerous, vicious, filled with bad intentions and even worse desires. She was taught to be wary, careful, to stay far from the window as much as she could and to never look down if she ever happened to hear voices or screams.

Nobody was worth the risk. Nobody could be trusted.

Still, when she’d woken up that morning and saw the thin, bruised girl that was sleeping in her room, she thought that had to be the most fragile and helpless creature that had ever lived.

She was curled up into herself, hugging her limbs tight, as if someone had just tried to steal all of them away from her, her dress was torn and drenched, her body dirty with mud, her face and neck bloody on one side. Something about her hit Roselind right to her chest.

Maybe, that poor, tired girl, was also there to get her, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t the case. She had sat beside her, watching closely the dark bruises that covered her face, noticing the way they crawled over her arms, even her legs.

Helping and trusting her was the easiest and quickest decision she could make.

It only took a couple of minutes to fix her bruises. First, she carefully dragged the mass of her hair over her body, covering her like a funny blanket. When she pulled it away, her freckled arms and legs were back to a clean and healthy color. Then, she sat down again, gently placing a strand of hair over her face. Once again, she noticed how tired she looked, how fragile. When the bruised disappeared, Roselind discovered long eyelashes, high cheekbones, a nose just slightly curved upward in the most charming way. She was beautiful.

She still jumped to her feet the moment she saw the slightest movement under her eyelids. Roselind had chosen to trust her. She was also almost entirely sure the girl wasn’t there to get her hands over her powers. But she still hadn’t seen a breathing, living stranger in years.

She recollected herself immediately, though, standing still and straight as she watched the girl slowly come to her senses. Her heart skipped a beat when she met her eyes for the first time, a deep elegant blue, the prettiest she had ever seen. She could never be scared of her, instead, her whole body somehow felt attracted to her figure.

“Who are you?” she asked, slowly leaning towards her, before sitting down again.

Now that the girl was awake, she also looked incredibly tired, scared, confused in a desperate way. Who was that girl, really? Where did she come from? What kinds of monsters had she left there?

The stranger stared at her for a moment, burning those beautiful eyes right under her skin, then sat up, crawling backwards until she hit a wall.

"Hey, easy. The place is small, you may hurt yourself," she warned her, staying in her place to avoid freaking her out even more.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone lived here," she whispered, stuttering, her eyes racing from a corner of the room to another, as if looking for something, to flee more than to grab.

It hurt, somewhere deep inside her soul, to see her like that. That had to be the loneliest, more terrified person that ever existed. Roselind couldn’t help but feel bad.

"Indeed, it's supposed to be a secret," she explained, crossing her legs to lean her elbows on them. Still, she didn't get closer, observing from afar as the stranger also sat straight in a clear attempt to look more composed, less terrified. Her eyes were still wary.

"Oh I- I'm sorry. I didn't want to impose." Another whisper, even fainter, as the girl's eyes fled from Roselind and moved around again, resting over the window, then the door. Places to escape. She breathed in, slowly and heavily, then looked at her again.

"I swear, I won't tell a soul." It was a plead, again, her voice was low, creaky and scared, yet also determined and brave. It was admirable, in its own right.

How could have she even flinched at the sight of such an unlucky, lost creature? All she wanted to do, now, was lend her a hand and tell her she was not gonna hurt her. That everything would be alright.

The girl pulled her legs closer to her body and slowly got up, standing uneasy inside the room. Roselind didn’t get up, leaning her face over her hands in what was the least threatening version of herself that could exist, sitting on the ground with unbrushed hair and her white nightgown still on. But it probably wasn’t comforting enough, since she also deeply enjoyed looking like as scary as she could, as an angry girl of – now – eighteen could look inside a tower.

"I believe you," she said, calmly, and she was telling the truth. She always was, she dreaded empty promises and white lies, her memory was already filled to the brim with them. And yes, maybe it wasn't reasonable, trusting a stranger, but she did it anyway.

The girl didn’t seem convinced at all, judging from her confused expression. She looked at the door again. She breathed in slowly once more, then made the gesture to get up.

“Maybe I should leave.”

Considering Desdemona could come any moment, she probably should. But Roselind couldn’t really let her leave like that, at least not without having her calming down a little first.

She turned around, crawling on the ground until she reached the basket Desdemona has left the day before. Usually, she would have devoured everything, but that had been a sad encounter and had left her too empty to do anything more than nibble at a piece of cheese.

Roselind knew the girl would have never trusted food from her, but also that she had to try. She took a loaf of bread and split it in half, then carefully cut two pieces of cheese and left half of the food in the middle ground between her and the girl, together with the rest of the basket. Then proceeded to put her cheese on her bread and took a bite.

"I'm Roselind," she explained, joyfully skipping titles and middle names. Chainsaw quietly flew between them. Roselind called the bird to her, leaving some crumbs on the floor for her to eat. "Do you want to tell me your name?"

The girl was looking at Chainsaw, slightly raising an eyebrow in a funny way that, for a moment, made her look like a normal girl. Then nodded and came back into her neutral yet scared expression, looking back at her.

"I'm Eva," she uttered, more clearly then everything she had said so far. She thought that was the most beautiful name she'd ever heard.

Her eyes moved to the already half-bitten bread in Roselind’s hands, then the crumbles Chainsaw was still picking at.

She reached for the bread but froze as she noticed her clean, unbruised arm.

"What happened?" she asked, slightly out of breath, in a mix of confusion, wonder and pure fear. "Did you do this??"

Roselind didn’t know if a way of explaining it without scaring her even more existed. It probably didn’t. She was also a horrible liar, so it wasn’t even worth trying. She took another bite out of her bread and shrugged.

"I have magical hair that glows and heals people," she said, still half-chewing. Eva raised an eyebrow, still amazed and confused, but also extremely skeptical.

She didn’t ask for more, anyway, but finally took her piece of bread and carefully started to eat it. She was forcing herself to be careful and slow, but Roselind could see from the tremors in her hands that she had to be hungry.

She decided it would have been better not to stare at her, so she turned to the window. Then it hit her. Eva was there, which meant there was a way in. A way in meant that there was also a way out. She tightened her fingers over the edge of the window frame and leaned out so much that she almost lost her balance, trying to look for ladders or ropes, then pulled herself back up and turned towards the other girl.

“How did you get here?” she asked, breathless and excited.

If that thin, tired girl could come up there, Roselind would have been able to go down the same road. It was possible. Maybe even real.

Eva froze up for a moment, looking almost guilty. Maybe she thought she was blaming her for entering. Maybe she just didn't like the question. Anyway, she slowly took another breath and raised her shoulders.

“I climbed.”

"You what?" Roselind didn't pretend to not look shocked. The tower existed to keep her safe, it was not supposed to be climbable.

But maybe it was. Maybe the weather had somehow ruined the surface, maybe plants or something had grown over it. The surprise turned into sheer excitement.

Eva looked intimidated but also confused by her reaction.

"I'm good at climbing," she added.

Maybe she was. Maybe it had been a very lucky situation. Or maybe she was a skinny, tired girl that had climbed something she could also climb. Maybe – probably – it was worth giving it a try. It was her birthday. Everything was possible.

She didn’t even answer, just stormed to the other side of the room, reaching for her favourite, black gown and absolutely ready to face the world. She was kind of easy to embarrass, normally, yet she didn’t question the idea of undressing in the same room as Eva. While letting the black silk slide over her hips, for a moment, she had the illusion of catching a glimpse of the girl’s beautiful eyes gliding across her skin, but she didn’t think about it. She was too busy packing whatever she thought they could need inside a small bag, before securing it over one shoulder.

She looked at Eva again, excited and proud. Somehow, she looked less scared of her now, which she liked. Roselind paraded a thin but sincere smile, feeling every inch of her skin shivering with excitement.

“Would you show me this climb, then?”

\---

Eva’s stomach turned as she looked down from the window of the tower, not remembering it to be this high up, though she had probably been too tired to realise. Roselind was practically jumping behind her, she could feel her restless energy pouring into her own body, bu when Eva glanced back, she looked nothing but composed. She started to quickly recognise the different emotions flickering through the girl with rapid speed. There was something knowable about the Roselind, something that screamed  _ please break down the walls I have kept up for so long _ . Eva knew about putting up walls to hide emotions, her magic, anything that made her vulnerable. Maybe that’s why she felt so attracted to her.

“Come on, now,” there was a grin in her voice. “Let me see those skills.”

Eva stood on the edge, her hands shaking as she took in the drop-down, but she turned around to face Roselind, who watched her with attentive eyes and let herself glide down until she was clinging to the little sill she had just been standing on.

Roselind opened her mouth, hesitating, and closed it again, continuing to watch her instead as she manoeuvred around so she could grab one of the vines still clinging to the base. She put faith in Cabeswater, as the forest called itself, it would hold. It had to.

It did.

Eva began her climb down, slower than she had climbed up, her hands sweaty from Roselind’s eyes burning into the crown of her head. She couldn’t get the image of Roselind’s partially naked body out of her mind, the images flashing in front of her eyes almost tauntingly. Smooth skin stretching on for what seemed like miles, soft curves with lean muscles underneath. Her body had been partially obscured with her long hair but Eva had seen enough to suffer from acute heart palpitations. There was something untouchable about Roselind, though she had been nothing but kind to her, there was an impenetrable wall Eva wanted to break down.

Maybe it was her inexperience with strangers, especially pretty ones, that caused such an extreme reaction. Maybe it was the fact that she had never kissed anyone before that caused imaginary situations to flash before her eyes. Or maybe there was something special about the beautiful girl with the long, long hair. 

Her heartbeat was still faster than normal, all because she saw some skin from a pretty girl. It was pathetic.

Despite her shaky and sweaty hands, she made it. Eva had only slipped twice but Cabeswater had helped her inconspicuously, wrapping fragile-looking leave stems around her ankle that were surprisingly solid.

When she looked up, she realised Roselind hadn’t followed her down. 

It was too far away to see her expression, but her head hung slightly, her hair moving in the wind. There was something defeated about the way she stood and Eva thought about climbing up to help her down, but Roselind moved suddenly, throwing her legs over the window sill and starting the climb.

Her movements were slow and unsteady. Eva could barely look, too afraid she might fall and there was no way of catching her if she did. Roselind paused and Eva felt like she could finally breathe again. Until she threw part of her hair on one of the hooks sticking out of the wall, securing it, holding on tightly and letting herself fall.

Eva let out a surprised yelp, frozen in fear and wonder as she watched her fly through the air with an enthusiastic shout. She could hear a faint yelling coming from above her, not knowing if it was her imagination or not. The raven flew above them in circles, as if happy to finally stretch her wings out.

_What the absolute fuck? _

This girl was scared of climbing down the tower but she could  _ jump  _ instead? Who does something like this? Does she have no survival instincts? Good god, this girl was going to be the death of her and they had only just met.

Roselind landed unflatteringly on her backside but she was up within seconds, running around the clearing joyously, whooping and laughing as she went. Her mood was infectious and Eva couldn’t contain a small smile at the pure, barely contained, unadulterated joy. Though, it was secretly one of pure relief that she made it, that she was okay and not dead and broken in front of her.

She stopped suddenly, staring up at the tower with troubled eyes. Eva didn’t ask what was wrong, it wasn’t her place to ask this from a stranger, but something made her want to help, to say something that would clear the conflict behind her eyes. It was as if glee and horror were battling inside of her, leaving her off and shaking. 

"I could've just left," Roselind whispered and if she wasn't standing on her right side, Eva wouldn't have heard it. She pretended she didn't hear anything, despite her heart breaking at the thought of this poor girl, trapped in a tower she could have left. 

Imprisonment that wasn't imprisonment at all.

Roselind turned to her then, trying her hardest to look calm and collected, and Eva pretended she was succeeding. The little chameleon in its little polo shirt was pressed against her neck in an almost comforting manner before it jumped into her hands, its arms pressed to its sides, looking every bit a scolding mother. Eva barely contained the laughter bubbling up inside of her.

“Princess Roselind Neilina Lynch, second in line to the throne, how dare you jump out of a window.”

_Wait… Princess?! _

Roselind rolled her eyes but had the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed. “We made it, didn’t we?”

“Princess! You could have died. I forbid you from doing this again. The risks! Did you even think about the risks? What will happen when your sister finds out? You promised-“

Roselind helplessly glanced at Eva, who only shrugged in a way that said, “it’s your chameleon. You deal with it!” which turned the brief glance in a full-on glare. Eva couldn’t contain her laughter this time at the absurdity of it all. She was about to run away with a _princess, _with unruly god knows how long curls glaring at her, a raven perched on her shoulder and a little chameleon in a polo shirt and boat shoes still reprimanding said princess for jumping out of a tower window. This whole situation was ridiculous and Eva wondered how in the world this was her life now, though it was better than getting beaten down into the ground every day.

“Come on,” Roselind said, flicking the chameleon off her shoulder carelessly, laughing as she fell in the high grass with an indignant squeak. Despite her rough handling of the little animal, she waited for it to catch up before leading them out of the clearing, clearly not knowing where she was going either. 

“So,” Eva started, her courage increasing every second she spent with Roselind, “a princess, huh?”

Roselind sighed but shrugged, not able to deny her title as much as she seemed to want to. “Yeah, I am. Royalty, whoohoo!”

“Don’t you think that being a princess locked in a tower is a bit cliche?”

Roselind was speechless for a second before she saw the poorly hidden delight in Eva’s eyes and couldn’t help but grin at her. It was more coy than complicit, though.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know.”

Eva grinned. She didn’t know why being called an asshole made her feel warm inside, but it did. Perhaps it was the way Rosalind had said it, not to curse her but as a word of endearment.

And that was that. Eva couldn’t have imagined going on an adventure with a princess but it was more excitement than she had felt in years. She didn’t have friends in the old town she ran away from. She worked at home and was beaten whenever her father pleased, but this was thrilling and adventurous, something Eva didn’t think she’d have the privilege of.

She decided, for once, not to question it and enjoy what little time she had.

They had only been walking for an hour when a rustling of leaves made Eva jump out of her skin. It was coming from a nearby bush and she couldn’t help but picture her father jumping out, grabbing her by the throat, taking her with him again to the place she so desperately escaped.

“The fuck is that?” Roselind asked, looking no less scared herself, though she had a glint in her eyes too, one that predicted nothing but mischief. Maybe she liked this, the danger, the hint of something that could hurt them. Eva didn’t care for it at all and placed herself strategically behind Roselind. 

She was trusting a complete stranger to protect her now, without her knowing perhaps, but still, she did. There was something about this strange girl with her even stranger life that made her feel safe like nobody ever had before. With a past like hers Eva wasn't a trusting person, not of people or places or anything that she couldn't fully analyse first. But this girl made her feel at ease and she basked in it before it would inevitably be ripped away from her, like so many things had before.

The leaves of the bush rustled again before something jumped out. Both girls let out an unflattering yell, Eva closing her eyes and nearly burrowing her head in Roselind's back. She opened her eyes slowly when nothing seemed to attack her only reveal…

“A fucking bunny?”

They were both giggling now, hearts still racing in their chests. It felt nice to laugh with someone, have fun without a price tag hanging off of it. Eva couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this much but Roselind already made her feel free, more alive than she had in maybe forever.

“Come on,” Eva said this time, gently pulling on Roselind’s arm who followed her without protest.

They continued their journey through the forest and onto a winding path, laughing and talking as if they had been doing it for years. Something lingered in Roselind, though, something Eva couldn't put a name to. She did her best to make her laugh as much as possible to get that complicated expression off her face, but to no avail. No matter how many times she made Roselind laugh, albeit a sharp grin more often than not, the troubled look returned every time. Even her chameleon looked at her in concern despite being thrown off her shoulder two times again, once for asking Eva if she knew about "dead welsh-“ and the second time because Roselind “wanted to”.

Her expression fully cleared for a second when they approached the “Snuggly Duckling”, a little bar with a yellow duck as a mascot off the side of the road. The vicinity looked about ready to collapse into nothingness but Eva supposed there could be a charm in it too. A broken place still visited by people that loved and cared for it.

“We’re going in!” she said excitedly, already making a head start while “Regina the Chameleon” reprimanded her for day drinking and its dangers. This time the chameleon was flung against the little duck mascot, the animal slowly sliding down the sign, not even trying to save herself from falling.

Eva followed dutifully despite the place giving off a weird energy, dark and menacing. Maybe it was the eyes she felt on her now that she was standing alone, in the middle of the road. Eva felt a chill run down her back, goosebumps appearing on her arm. She shrugged it off, blaming the recent events on her being too precautious, and yet not noticing the dark figure pulling back into the line of trees until it disappeared.

When she entered the bar, multiple eyes turned to her, leaving her cowering under the attention. She looked down at her outfit, brushing out the kinks of sleeping on the floor and walking through forests, and realised seconds later that there was some blood splattering on the "welcome" doormat underneath her shoes. She eyed the others more carefully and was shocked to spot multiple knives, a sword, at least three military flails and … a pig?

“Listen,” she heard, Roselind’s voice booming above all others. Eva followed it, finding her sitting at the bar, ignoring the dozens of eyes that followed her, and plastered herself to Roselind’s side. “I get that you hate your sister, mine's a bitch too, but don’t you think that putting her into a medieval torture machine is a bit, I don’t know, much?”

Eva’s eyebrows raised immediately, a combination of shock and curiosity whirling inside of her.  _ How is Roselind brave enough to say this to a man three heads bigger than her? _

“She  _ stole  _ my special edition, hand-painted, icon of cats. Do you know how many they make of those, long hair?” The big man looked at Roselind with furious eyes, his hands bigger than her entire head but she didn’t look scared at all.

_She is insane. _

Roselind shook her head in mock patience.

“One! They made one and she stole it!” The words were reiterated by a hammer slamming on the table next to Eva. She made herself smaller immediately, her breaths coming out quicker than before. Images of her father flashed before her eyes. The panic in her rose until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and looked up to find Roselind staring at her with something akin to worry in her eyes.

“Maybe take up gardening? To release the stress,” Roselind said, a little bit of a bite to her tone as she pointedly looked from the big man to Eva who she was still hugging close.

And so she went on, instructing big, scary-looking men with their many weapons and bloodied clothes on how to deal with their pent up feelings. It worked better with more alcohol flowing, but it just reminded Eva of her father so she was not drinking along. She was, besides Regina the Chameleon, the only sober and, quite frankly, sane person in the vicinity. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, Irish sounding music started playing to which Rosalind cried out in glee, lifting her skirts and stepping on top of the bar. Her upper body was still, her arms stiff next to her body, but her feet moved quickly, interchanging positions, side to side, as she jumped up and down. She kicked her right foot high in the air, nearly kicking herself square in the face before laughing about it so hard she fell off the bar.

The music stopped immediately, dozens of scary-looking men with tender hearts surrounding her, concern clear on their mean looking faces.

“Is the girl okay?” one of them asked, tears welling in his eyes. The others shook their heads worriedly and inched closer.

After a few seconds of silence she jumped up to the cheers of the bar and the music started again. Eva whipped around to see where it was coming from, but came up short which left her puzzled more than anything she had encountered so far. Meanwhile, Roselind had managed to rope some of the men into joining her in her crazed dance, drinking with her as their feet moved to the tune of bagpipes playing. How they did this without spilling a drop, Eva did not know.

The only thing Eva could think during the entire ordeal was “what the ever-loving fuck is going on?” but she let herself go a little too, laughing at the antics of the drunk guests hopping around like hyperactive kangaroos. There was something about the bunch of them, big men with big beards dancing with a skinny princess who drank them all under the table that made Eva feel more cheerful than she had in years.

A pair of hands took Eva’s and pulled her up, whisking her away from the table she had come to see as her safe haven. Roselind moved her arms up and down, jumping herself, her feet kicking as she did.

“You know,” Eva said, her tone teasing and light. “I don’t condone the fact that you were locked in a tower. But boy, do I get it now.”

Roselind looked at her in mock hurt for a second before telling her to shut up and “learn the damn steps”.

Eva laughed and truly let go this time.

The aftermath was less pretty. Drunk men lying everywhere curled up in make-shift blankets that were all just Roselind's hair. Roselind herself was laying across a table, getting closer and closer to falling, before waking up, catching herself and doing it all over again.

A loud neighing shook them all awake, Roselind falling off the table for real this time. Indignantly, she gathered her hair and stormed outside, ready to fight whatever horse woke her up.

“No,” she whispered as she stared at the horse, clad in all blue, just outside of the bar in awe. The horse was looking anything but happy, its nostrils bristling as she took in Roselind’s disheveled state. The horse seemed to judge her, eyeing her with great distaste. And then, with recognition clear in her voice, Roselind whispered the last words she was expecting to come out of her mouth.

“Not this motherfucker.”

\---

Roselind had her fair share of history regarding magical creatures, being one herself. She had a history of healing unknown sleeping girls with her magical hair, happily throwing around her magical talking chameleon like it was her personal toy, angrily punching her sister that was, basically, a magical bitch.

But there was nothing magical about that horse. It was just a horse, a fucking ugly, annoying horse. Except this one was also an asshole. And a snitch. An asshole snitch horse.

“So, it’s you and me again, bitch.” she shouted angrily, staring at the evil creature right in its horrifying horse eyes. They were full of hatred.

Maybe, Roselind was still kind of drunk. She had just called a goddamn animal a bitch. But she did that to Desdemona all the time, so it shouldn’t really make a difference. She had her reasons for calling her sister a bitch, but same went for fucking Blue the horse.

It had been years, now. Roselind had been in the process of moving into the tower and, like any respectable twelve-year-old, had tried to run away in the dead of the night to avoid moving. Except the horse kept following her, right around the corner, neighing constantly like a fucking warning bell. She didn’t even know why. She hadn’t known the horse, and her running away sure as hell wouldn’t have changed anything about the evil creature’s life. It was just a snitch, an evil, cold blooded asshole.

It being there was the absolute proof of that.

“Did you just call the horse a bitch  _ and _ a motherfucker?” Eva asked, clearly having grasped what she had said, raising an eyebrow. She looked somewhat surprised, but that was because she didn’t know that horse. Its evil, endless determination.

What a filthy, godless creature. Of course it was there, it probably could smell her having fun from miles. She felt sick. She wanted to punch it so bad it was almost a physical need.

“You don’t know  _ this _ fucking snitch.” she uttered between her teeth, without averting her gaze. She couldn’t take it.

Rosalind leaped towards the horse, ready to strike. Eva was quick to grab her by the arms and hold her back.

“Roselind,  _ are you trying to fight the horse _ ?”

“Don’t call me that, it makes me mad.” she protested, trying slowly to free herself from her hold.

“It’s your goddamn name.” Eva said indignantly. She was right. But Roselind was too.

And maybe she was still drunk, since she couldn’t struggle enough, but she knew she didn’t imagine the hint of a laugh in the horse’s neigh. The motherfucker.

“Don’t you fucking dare laugh at me.”

“Princess Roselind, I don’t think you should be upset. This is a palace horse, it could bring all of us to the castle.”

Roselind picked it up from her shoulder and threw it into the grass again. She heard Eva sigh, tired in a very different way.

“Yeah, princess, isn’t the castle where you want to go?”

It was. She thought about how smart Eva was. And also about the way she was still holding her to her chest, to stop her from fighting the horse. Roselind blushed. Then she straightened herself up, trying to conceal it.

“Don’t call me princess.”

“That is, quite literally, what you are.”

That was, also, absolutely true. But that didn’t change the fact that Eva calling her princess had made something inside her chest tighten and she wasn’t ready for that.

She let out an annoyed sigh, raising both of her hands. It would have been better just to comply. Roselind wasn’t ready to blush again at the next intelligent thing that could leave Eva’s mouth. Oh shit Eva’s mouth. She wasn’t supposed to feel hot all over thinking about it, but she was.

“Fine, we’ll follow this fucking asshole. But I refuse to talk to it.” she gave up, flopping in Eva’s arms, which was a bad idea, since it made her heart race.

But the other girl finally let her go after that, so she could straighten up again and put some space between them, which, maybe, made her look like a bitch, but god forbid she did not want to look lame in front of her literal first friend.

Maybe Eva didn’t notice, because she just let out a tired and slightly amused sigh.

The horse looked disgustingly pleased, as they followed it out of the forest, but Roselind was absolutely sure what pleased it above everything was the fact she was miserable.

She did want to go to the castle. She couldn’t wait to hug her mother and see her sisters outside the small, depressing space of the tower. But she also wanted to see the festivals, her people, to lose herself in the crowd. She didn’t know what would happen, after going back to the palace. Maybe there was just another, bigger and better secured tower waiting for her. This was her one chance to be happy, free.

And this fucking horse was standing in her way.

She was also still not completely sober, which made walking in a straight line kind of hard. Eva stepped in and linked her arm to hers, which made her heart stop. Holy fucking shit.

She wobbled beside her, defeated. She didn’t want to give up on her dream, she wanted to see, to meet people, to live a festival that was dedicated to her. The road to the castle kept getting more defined under their feet, as they got out of the forest. She could make out the last, long strand, peeking from between the trees, and she wasn’t ready.

As they reached the limit, the horse was proceeding, a pretty straight-forward sign reading “castle this way” behind it. But Roselind, bird on her head, chameleon on her shoulder and Eva at her arm, planted her feet. She would not comply.

“This is not the way.” she declared, unmovable.

Eva covered her face with a beautiful, freckled hand. Regina sighed. The horse looked pissed. Good.

“Princess Roselind, that’s the way to the castle,” Regina pointed out. And she was right, but Roselind didn’t care one bit.

The horse looked pointedly from her to the sign.

“That does not mean it’s my castle.” she answered, innocently, then shrugged.

The beast looked even more mad, now. It was a pleasure.

It moved to the side, looking pointedly at the visible palace at the top of the hill, now.

She raised an eyebrow. She didn’t care one bit.

“Are you saying I don’t know my own castle, bitch?” she asked, smiling. “I could get you executed for that. I’m a motherfucking princess.”

Eva did what sounded like a painful self-slap. Then whispered a complaint about hitting herself too hard.

Rosalind took her hand, determined to ignore the horse and do whatever the hell she wanted. She looked around, calmly, looking for the outline of the village she had pined after for years, watching from the window of her tower. Then went into that direction.

“That’s the way. Follow me, asshole.”

The horse knew, it fucking knew it wasn’t the way. But it was also determined to bring her home, so it had to comply. Roselind felt too powerful. She liked it.

All the fighting was worth it, though. Roselind had been waiting her whole life to see the festival. Because of her powers, she wasn’t allowed outside, not even before her father died. She watched from the castle window, sometimes even paraded shortly with her family on a carriage, but she had never been able to step in and enjoy it.

Now she walked right through the crowd, under the brightly colored decorations, admiring the beautiful clothes of the other girls, smelling the flowers that graced every corner, hearing music so beautiful she felt her eyes watering. She tiptoed around, excited, overwhelmed with joy and melancholy and a longing deep inside her soul. For that beautiful happy place. For those wonderful people smiling at her and giving her flowers. For her father, her mother, her sisters. She hadn’t felt happiness in a long time, now it exploded inside her all at once, her heart beating fast, her soul overjoyed. Her hair kept tangling and getting stuck, but she didn’t care. 

Roselind turner towards Eva, smiling in a different way as another kind of warmth filled her chest, holding her hand.

“It’s beautiful.” she said, her voice cracking a bit, but she pretended not to notice.

She didn’t care. Everything inside her was filled with light. She didn’t know if the human heart could stand to love a moment so hard it hurt, if it was possible to miss something she hadn’t seen or felt before. But she could, she did.

She never wanted to leave.

\---

Eva watched amusedly as the townspeople fell over the long, curly hair sprawled everywhere, but she didn’t have it in her to stop Roselind from running around. She hadn’t seen the princess this elated since they met, which was, admittedly, only a day ago, but seeing her this happy made her heart clench anyway.

There was a spring in her step as she dragged Eva to every little market stall, smelling the fresh bread that was baking, wrapping themselves in multicoloured scarves and running when they were scolded for it. 

  
Even the horse seemed less angry, watching Roselind as she danced around the town square.

Roselind was happy, but she wasn’t the only one. Eva had never known ‘fun’, she never got to experience it, in a life which solely consisted of work and pain. There was something freeing about running around with nobody stopping her. Her body thrummed with pent up energy that rose higher as Roselind clutched her hand. Eva felt  _ alive _ , so everything around her did too. She left flowers in her wake as she rushed through the cobbled streets, the colours blending with the festival perfectly, flowers she for once didn’t care about hiding. 

Eva stopped for a second, all sound from the festival falling away as she stared at the figure of a man in the crowd. The man looked eerily like her father from behind, the dirty blonde hair that was always a little greasy, the stained jacket he sometimes wore when he actually made it outside instead of collapsing in his puke stained chair with an empty bottle in hand. But it couldn’t be, he couldn’t have found her. So, instead of stepping closer to see if her imagination wasn’t deceiving her, she stepped back and ran back to Roselind who had been watching her with a curious expression. Eva shook her head and ran past her, shouting for her to follow.

They came to a stop at a little fountain where a kind woman gave them two coins and explained to them how to make a wish. Listening closely to the instructions, Eva closed her eyes, kissed her coin, and threw it backwards, hearing the satisfying sound of it hitting the water. She had wished for this day to never end, for her to always feel like this, for a happiness she never thought was meant for her.

“Excuse me, miss,” a small voice came from behind them. They turned around like choreographed dancers to see a fragile looking girl standing in front of them. Her hair was blonde, the point of near disappearance, and one half of her face was a bit smudgy, as if she had fallen on something, or something had fallen on her. She was pretty, though, in a vulnerable kind of way.

“Yes?” Eva asked, her tone friendly and approachable. The girl shook her head shyly and pointed at Roselind instead.

“Actually, I meant her, with the long, pretty hair.”

Roselind raised an eyebrow but motioned for her to continue, which threw the girl off for a second before she excitedly asked, “Can I braid your hair?”

Eva and Roselind looked at each other for a split second, a silent conversation happening between them as if they had done it a thousand times before. Roselind nodded apprehensively and was immediately pulled along to an entire group of girls, waving at her from a distance. Eva laughed openly and ran along, watching as Roselind was planted on a little bench with a dissatisfied pull to her lips. Chainsaw flew from Roselind’s shoulder to her own as if knowing what was about to happen. Eva only cringed slightly from the sharp nails pushing into her shoulder but she pet the little raven gently and it curled around her hand. When she met Roselind’s eyes, there was something she couldn’t decipher in it, but it made her feel warm all over.

Meanwhile, the girls stared in wonder, their hands brushing through her hair and relishing in the softness of it. The pulled brushes and flowers out of seemingly nowhere and got to work. Roselind, despite her seemingly permanent glare, waited patiently as the girls worked, pulling her hair into complex braids, tying it all together with a piece of ribbon. They then wove the flowers in her hair, some of which had sprouted from Eva’s excitement. She tried not to blush at the sight of it but failed miserably.

Roselind thanked them when they were done in a surprising act of kindness, pulling the smudgy girl aside for a second longer. 

“You never told me your name,” she said.

The girl smiled, a sad pull to her lips. “Natalie.”

She turned around and walked away, disappearing into nothingness.

“Well,” Roselind said, her eyes widened. “That was… something.”

“I like it,” Eva confessed, playing with one of the little flowers in her braid. “It looks good.”

They were both stunned into silence, looking into each other's eyes without moving a muscle, not quite knowing what they could say that would make this situation feel less  _ charged _ . Nervous energy pulled at Eva now, ready to convert it into magic, the way it had done many times before.

Thankfully, loud, cheerful music started playing, pulling them both into motion. The town had gathered in a big circle, looking at the two dancers in the middle, though more people started to enter the circle as well. Eva wasn’t big on attention, she liked to keep to herself, stay unknowable. Usually, dozens of eyes on her, watching every move she made, would’ve made her feel nothing but uncomfortable, however, with Roselind’s hand in hers she didn’t notice the people at all. 

They spun in circles, before being ripped apart by people as the dance required the change of partners regularly. The man in Eva’s arms quite nice. He had a kind smile and hair that stood up more than Eva thought gravity would allow. He was quite a good dancer too, one hand in her hand and another hand on her waist, twirling her around with practised ease, but Eva couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth of Roselind’s arms and how much she preferred to be in them.

The song came near the end and Eva couldn’t help but feel disappointed she missed her chance to dance with Roselind for more than mere seconds. She longed to dance with her again like they had done in the bar, longed to feel her warm hands in hers again, to feel her body pressed against her own. 

The old woman in her arms smiled at her and let her go, leaving her twirling around aimlessly, her skirt pulling against her legs in the quick motions of her body. She felt strong but soft arms wrap around her, pulling her close just as the music stopped. 

Bright blue eyes framed by long black lashes looked back at her, uncharacteristically soft. Eva felt her face heat up but couldn’t stop staring. Roselind had found her way back to her and as the evening progressed and the music kept playing, Roselind found her, time and time again.

The night fell and lanterns were lit. Eva stared in wonder, not missing the same amazement she felt, reflected in Roselind’s eyes. There was something blooming in her chest as she looked at Roselind, studying everything, from the slope of her nose to the collarbones made visible with her hair out of the way. She was truly beautiful, looking more like a girl now instead of a goddess.

Eva spotted a little boat, not far from where they were standing, with a man holding a couple of lanterns beside him. “Come on,” she said as she pulled Roselind along, excitement bubbling in her chest.

“How much for the boat?” she asked the man, her voice steadier than she thought it could be. The confidence she had always lacked, seemed to grow the more time she spent accompanied by the princess and her entourage.

The man was old with a friendly face, he eyed the two with an amused glint in his eyes. “You can take it for a few hours, but bring it back in one piece,” he said, handing Eva the rope holding the boat at bay. “And the horse can’t come.”

The horse bristled, flaring her nostrils, which made Roselind double over in laughter. She said something to the horse which Eva could just understand as “fuck you, horse” and made her regret the entire trip all over again. Though, now, instead of just feeling like throwing herself into the lake and waiting for death to take her, she felt endeared as well.

“Thank you, sir,” she said kindly and motioned for Roselind to get in.

\---

Roselind slowly moved her bare feet along the wooden surface of the boat, careful, excited, holding tight to Eva’s hand to find some kind of balance. Her heart was beating fast inside her chest, as she sat down, her dress dirty and crumpled over her legs. She almost liked it more that way, lived in, a clear proof of the amazing day she had just lived, of the world outside. The view from the boat was beautiful.

She let her eyes take it all in, the beauty of the dark water melting into the night sky, the graceful frame that the village made, still filled with laughter and music and lights, the stars, endless, closer than they’d ever been even from the height of her tower, intertwining beautifully with hundreds of lanterns flying into the sky. Suddenly, Eva carefully placed one of them between her hands, another one already lit in her own. Roselind was so excited he couldn’t believe it.

They let the lanterns float slowly into the sky, joining the ones that already decorated the dark sky. All of them were for her, to keep her company in the lonesome heights of the tower, to remind her that she wasn’t alone, even if she felt that way, even if sometimes everything looked so far and removed that she felt more like a forgotten ghost than a little girl. They were supposed to be looked at from afar, yet they were more beautiful than they had ever been now, dancing around her, flying over her head, showering her with light, and warmth, and company. They were really meant to feel like this, she thought, close and magical. 

She felt happy and sad at the same time, in a weird, marvellous way.

Roselind had been afraid to leave, that morning. She had noticed it at the last moment, when she had begun the climb down and had gotten a glimpse of the small room of the tower from outside. That was her space, her house, her entire life. It looked incredibly tiny now, pathetic, crooked and messy and filled with the ramblings of an odd child. The tight, regular walls were filled with paintings and drawings, draped in complicated works of embroidery, delicate tents and handmade decorations, every piece of furniture hand painted and embellished. Works of art and boredom, fruits of the restless and nervous labour of a lonely girl with too much time on her hands, too much sadness to forget, too many holes to fill inside her heart. Beautiful and desperate.

That room had seen her dancing and singing to nonexistent music, reading to birds and little animals and her shadow, crying and screaming and restlessly tossing and turning in her bed to fight endless nightmares, all by herself. It was a sad, pitiful thing, filled with loneliness.

She felt pathetic for trying to leave. Desdemona was right, she knew nothing of the world, nothing outside of the place in which she had harvested every weird bit of herself, where she had turned into a feral, uneasy creature. Out of boredom, out of spite, out of loneliness.

How was she supposed to fit in? How could she let herself be known by anyone, when there was something so weird and twisted about her? Who would have been able to accept something like her, an ill-kept secret, a bearer of beautiful powers and horrifying memories. That was what her sister wanted to hide her from. The memory of her father, bloody and lifeless outside Roselind’s bedroom. The realization she could have met that exact fate. The entire, twisted world. But she’d become twisted in the process, too.

Climbing down, she had realized that she could have always left. Stole the key, pried open the door with a knife, attempted the climb down with a rope of sheets and clothes and curtains. But she hadn’t. She didn’t feel fit for the world. She was too raw, too damaged and unaware.

Yet, she had made the jump. She had to. She was tired of being scared of everything, of herself and what she could be. It was either that or madness.

She turned to her side, now, after letting her eyes burn with the beauty of the sky, and noticed that Eva had been looking at her, who knew for how long. Her heart was beating even faster, now, her stomach felt tight, her hands shaking.

They were different people from the ones that had met that morning. They had sang and danced and walked side by side, with her hands and their arms and their souls intertwining. She owed her everything. Her life had been changed forever the moment she had seen her, curled up on her floor.

Roselind had been afraid, then, without even knowing it. She wasn’t now.

She let her hand move, slow and careful towards the space between them. Eva’s met it halfway, as in a perfect dream. There was something so warm and strong in her chest that she almost felt like she couldn’t breathe.

There had been something different about that girl, something special and familiar that had drawn Roselind towards her from the moment she saw her, that made her push through fear and confusion and a horrible temper. Eva had been asleep, tired and bruised. She had felt sad and distant. Now, instead, she was close, glowing under the warm lights, her eyes wide open and sweet, resting over her in a way that made her cheeks warm.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

“Thank you.” Roselind said, trying her best to talk over the tightness of her throat, the warmth of her chest, the tears of pure joy fighting to come out.

She knew she was being silly, all over the place, with starry eyes that struggled to fight back tears and hands shaking so much that she was afraid Eva would let go. But she took the other one too. Roselind forgot how to breathe, watching their fingers intertwined. Eva’s hands were, maybe, the most beautiful part of her. They here a couple of shades darker than hers, covered in freckles, rough spots and small scars that still couldn’t detract from the long, thin fingers that bewitched her with such elegance and care that made her own pale hands look clumsy. They were absolutely enchanting, she had been wanting to hold them that way since she’d seen them wrapped about a small piece of bread.

When she looked at her again, she noticed Eva was a bit of a mess too. She wore her own starry eyes, the same red in her cheek, the same amazement and pure bliss on her pretty lips. Once again, she felt familiar, with a new kind of warmth reflecting in the deep blue of her irises akin to the one that brushed over her own skin, her companion in joy and bewilderment as she had been in fear, in doubt, in restless yearning for life, for more.

She lowered her head a bit, eyes not parting from hers, and carefully brought their intertwined fingers to her face, placing Eva’s rough and lovely hands over her cheeks, letting her feel the warmth of her skin, the tenderness that was nesting inside her heart.

Roselind felt a happiness so strong and absolute it was intoxicating. She never wanted that moment to end.

But then Eva looked away from her, just for one moment, and everything stopped.

She was, suddenly, terrified.

\----

It was  _ him _ .

The man at the festival, the shadow next to the bar, it had been him. Her father. Robert Parrish looking mean as ever, more so maybe in the shadows of the dark night, standing on the pier with a dangerous grin on his face, his teeth glittering in the dark.

They were on open water and there was no way to go but towards him, or they would have to spend eternity on a boat in the lake. Eva swallowed down the bile rising up with great effort, noticing that her hands were starting to shake. They were still firmly clasped in Roselind’s, who was now looking at her concerned. 

“It’s my father,” she confessed, afraid to look her in the eyes. She didn’t tell her what had happened, nobody really knew anyway, and it was something she had hoped she could leave in the past. Now, though, there was no place to run. Not from Robert Parrish and not from Roselind’s questioning eyes. 

Roselind squeezed her hands gently and when Eva dared to look up, her jaw was clenched tightly, her eyes murderous. Despite Eva not telling her anything, Roselind had somehow picked up on it. She couldn’t know exactly what happened but she could guess.

“What did he do?” Roselind asked, her voice wavering slightly but her tone hard. Eva knew it wasn’t meant for her.

She didn’t answer. Shame had been wearing her down for years, pulling at her until there was nothing left. This was not something she could share, not even with the person she, after only one day, trusted more than anyone in her life before.

Roselind waited for an answer that didn’t come. Her body was strung tight, her hands now at her sides, balled in fists. She unclenched them when she saw Eva staring at them but this made her positively more angry, now imagining what must have happened to her even more.

“Roselind,” Regina said, but it sounded more like a warning. 

Roselind didn’t even spare her a glance.

“We have to go back,” Eva said, trying to be the voice of reason. The party was dying down and she wanted to have at least a few witnesses when something happened. There was no matter of “if” or “maybe”, Robert would do something bad and she knew it, she felt it.

Cabeswater, fainter now that she was far away from the forest, begged her to stay safe. Eva didn’t know if she could fulfil a request like that so she ignored the voice and helped Roselind paddle back to the pier.

Eva didn’t even have the time to step out of the boat herself, instead, two rough hands yanked her out, pulling her along immediately. She could hear Roselind shouting her name but she begged her silently to run in the other direction, to not get involved. Eva was used to violence, wore it as she did her ill-fitted clothes, uncomfortable yet familiar, she could handle it. But she was not going to bear the sight of Roselind bleeding, she was not going to watch her fall when Robert’s fists would inevitably land on her too. 

She closed her eyes and prayed, though she had never done so before. She prayed to whoever listened, not that she would be safe or even make it out alive, but that Roselind wouldn’t follow her, wouldn’t try to intervene.

Her prayers weren’t heard.

Eva felt the rapid steps of Roselind behind her, the bass of it thrumming through her body until it reached her heart which was beating just as fast. If only her magic could do something useful, break her out of her father’s grip, maybe even hurt her him in repayment of what he had done to her. But Cabeswater only whispered, let her feel that someone was going after her, going to save her. She shook her head to get rid of the whispers but they stayed persistently and Eva gave up.

She was pulled into a back-alley and her head hit the cold stone wall behind her immediately, pain blooming in the back of her head. She felt blood trickle down, seeping through the neck of her shirt. Eva crumpled to the dirty ground, watching as the horrifying figure of her father came closer, his fists prepared to do more harm.

Eva suffered a hit to her face, her cheekbone now pounding in tandem with her head. 

“Get up,” Robert said, his voice eerily calm. 

As she moved to get up he lifted her by her ribs, throwing her against the wall again, sneering “pathetic” when he did so. Her back will be full of bruises if she survived, but that chance was getting slimmer.

Rosalind was close, she could feel it. But she didn’t know how to make her go away. The helplessness she felt was not unfamiliar, it was a feeling that somehow became a part of her, just as much as shame had.

Roselind was right in front of the alley when Robert Parrish sneered, “I can bust your other ear too.”

With an almost inhuman roar, Roselind pushed Robert away from her. He merely stumbled but it was enough to place herself between Eva and her deadbeat father. Eva was pulling at her arm. Begging her to run. Begging her to stay out of it. Anything to not let her get hurt. Roselind ignored her as much as she ignored Regina shouting “don’t you fucking dare” at her. 

Roselind stood like an impenetrable force despite her skinny frame, her back straight, confidence radiating off of her in threatening waves. When Eva took her in, she didn’t look like the excited princess she had been before. Instead, she looked like a fighter, a survivor. If anyone was able to beat her father in a fight, it would be her.

Robert Parrish advanced, but Roselind blocked him using his own strength against him instead, sending him knocking into a wall. The pale moonlight shone down on them and Eva could just make out Roselind’s sharp grin, as if she was somewhat enjoying herself, taking pleasure from creating bruises, from bleeding knuckles pounding in on Robert.

Eva was frozen against the wall, feeling like the helpless little girl she used to be again.

Roselind took the arm coming towards her face in both hands and quickly moved her head away, the fist missing her by just a hairwidth. She took the opportunity to bite Robert’s arm ferociously, drawing blood and a scream from him alike.

“I will fucking kill you,” Robert shouted and Eva believed him immediately. He wouldn’t stop anything to keep hurting everything and everyone around him.

Eva finally found her voice, shouting for them to “please stop”. Horrible images flashing before her eyes, Roselind broken on the ground, Robert standing over her triumphantly. 

Robert pushed her away with an ease that made Eva sick to her stomach. He was inspecting his arm, which was a big mistake, as Roselind ran towards him, the element of surprise on her side, and hit Robert’s nose with a loud crack, his loud shouts ringing through Eva’s one hearing ear. 

“Fucking asshole,” Roselind bit out as she fluidly planted her knee into his crotch, making him fall onto the ground with an agonised cry. She neatly ripped one side of her dress, kicking him with all her might in his stomach. 

Robert grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Now it was Eva who was shouting. She was starting to move towards them but Chainsaw landed on her shoulder and pecked at her until she was back against the wall again. Regina had climbed on top of her other shoulder and told her to stay put as well. For once, she listened.

Eva watched in horror as her father landed a punch on the only person that had made her feel warm and happy in her life. She had to watch as blood poured from her mouth, her lip split horribly.

“No!” she screamed, making the earth underneath them rumble with the force of it. Vines sprung from the earth pulling her father from Roselind and holding him to the ground. Roselind quickly landed another few punches, looking wild and feral, knocking Robert out completely. 

Roselind pulled on her arm and they rushed out of the alleyway, their hands clasped together, holding on for dear life. Only when they were sure they were safe, did they pause. Roselind tenderly took Eva’s face between her palms, her thumb softly stroking her bruised cheekbone. Her eyes were still all fire but there was also something sad in them. Sad for Eva, that she had lived this life. 

Eva didn’t want pity, but here, cradled in Roselind’s hands, she couldn’t bring herself to feel ashamed. She shed that part of her and left it flowing in the wind, far away from her. She finally let herself break down, the tears rolling down her cheeks freely now.

Roselind whispered something but Eva couldn’t hear it, which only made her sob louder.

“I can’t hear you,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her confession, “my left ear, he-“

Her sentence was broken off with another sob and she was now fully enveloped against Roselind’s chest. The steady heartbeat against her hearing ear calming her down enough to look up.

Roselind moved to her right ear and whispered, “I got you.”

Eva shivered, from the cold or the promise behind those words, she didn’t know. There was something in the way Roselind spoke that told her she would keep her safe, just like she had done just now, fighting with all her might, though it may not be much, to make sure nobody could hurt her again.

They found the horse, still strapped to the pole by the pier, which had Roselind smiling and joking, back when they had tied her up. Now, Roselind sighed in relief before untying the animal, not cracking one joke. They made their way to the forest, creating a little space to sit in from a pile of leaves on a soft piece of grass.

“Do you trust me?”

Eva stared into Roselind’s eyes. The ever expressive eyes she had come to know so well in the past few hours. She nodded, not having to think twice.

Roselind unbraided her hair, laying the colourful flowers in Eva’s lap once at a time to make her smile, even if it was a bit watery. Eva studied her curiously as she gathered her now loose hair and started to wrap it around her body, pressing against every sore bit of skin.

She then held a piece of her close to her face to Eva’s left ear, bringing their faces close together. Eva, despite herself, blushed underneath Roselind’s intense gaze but was met with a sweet smile she hadn’t seen on her face often, which made her feel better immediately.

And then she began singing.

_Flower, gleam and glow, _

_Let your power shine, _

_Make the clock reverse, _

_Bring back what once was mine. _

The dark curls shone brightly, casting a soft glow over Roselind’s face. She sung with the voice of an angel.

Eva knew she was staring, her mouth hanging open, but she didn’t understand what was happening and she had never met another person who could wield magic like herself before. It was all a bit much to take in but she let Roselind continue, trusting her with her life.

_Heal what has been hurt, _

_Change the Fate’s design, _

_Save what has been lost, _

_Bring back what once was mine. _

  


Tears were welling up in Eva’s eyes at the hurt in Roselind’s voice as she sang the last note.

_What once was mine. _

Roselind pulled away, unwrapping her hair from her body, which was now feeling like new. There was always a part of it hurting and now it felt as if she had been reborn. Just as she had the previous morning. The pain in her body had disappeared then too, but now it felt deeper, as if Roselind had build the broken pieces of her back into a whole.

“What did you do?” she asked, clasping her hands over her mouth instantly. She heard the sound of her own voice with both ears. She could  _ hear _ herself. It felt like a miracle, a gift she didn’t deserve but received anyway.

Roselind looked sheepishly. “I told you I had magical hair that glows and heals people.”

Eva let out a surprise laugh, one full of wonder. She hugged Roselind tightly, thanking her over and over again until she felt herself slip away. Just before she fell asleep fully, she felt soft lips brush her forehead. 

That night she dreamed of light.

\---

The morning after, Roselind woke up in a giant knot of arms, legs and hair. She kind of hurt everywhere, since her magic didn’t really work on her own body, but she liked the way it made her feel. It was a powerful thing. She also liked the way Eva’s arms felt wrapped around her and the small of her waist felt trapped between her hands. Everything was warm and light, the sun shone brightly over them and the grass pleasantly tickled her legs.

That had been the first night spent outside the tower since the day she’d been brought to it. Calling it a long and emotional one would have been an understatement. It didn’t matter, though. She felt different, free, absolutely invincible. Because she was. Because now she knew what she had missed out, what she could have, how scary and warm and beautiful it all could be. She had someone to hold, to fight for, to protect. Someone that could understand her, that made her feel wanted, normal, something much much bigger than an odd, uneasy mess.

Eva was still sleeping beside her, but she looked different from how she did the morning before. Her breathing was easier, her body relaxed, her freckled face almost peaceful. Roselind had never fought for something as hard as she had done for her. But she would have never been able to stand back, to watch her bleed and crumble under the weight of her father’s hand. It was either fighting and risking her life, or letting Eva gave up her own. So she didn’t really have a choice to begin with.

Now she was free, both of them were, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Everything felt better, from breathing the fresh cold air, to telling the goddamn horse to fuck off and stop trying to make her hurry, to watching Eva sleep, beautiful and safe. She fluttered her light eyelashes and turned her big blue eyes on her, birthing an urge, deep inside her chest, to cover with tenderness every part of her, to heal every wound of her heart like she had with the bruises and broken bits. She had no reason to refrain herself, though, so she gently placed a kiss on her forehead, nose and cheeks. Roselind could feel how red and warm her face had gotten, but she just paraded a happy grin. Eva smiled back, sweet and happy, but still a little tired.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, cradling her face between her hands. She didn’t remember the last time she had been so delicate with someone. But the girl clearly needed it. She also deserved it.

Eva looked at her, weary. Last night had to be hard for her. It was quick, bloody rage to Roselind, something visceral and almost satisfying. It had not been the same for Eva. She had hell in her eyes, while everything was happening.

She didn’t nod, nor shook her head. She just shrugged, then hugged her tighter. Roselind placed her own forehead against her Eva’s.

She watched her slowly part her lips, then closing them again, nervous, her eyes low. She was trying to say something, but couldn’t find the words. She didn’t pressure her, stroking her cheek gently with one hand.

Eva slowly breathed in.

“I think you figured out what he did. To me.” she whispered, so quietly she could’ve never been able to hear her, if she hadn’t been that close. There was something about her eyes, about the sad, defeated tone of her voice, that made her feel like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. It was painful, difficult to handle.

Still, she didn’t flinch. She pressed her lips over her forehead again, without moving. A warm, single tear slowly reached her hand. She kissed that too.

“It’s not gonna happen again. You’re safe now.”

They stayed there, lying on the grass, hugging and touching each other hair and murmuring about the sky and Blue the horse and other useless things, until Eva looked lighter and Roselind felt even remotely ready to end her journey. Guards probably had been looking for her since the previous morning. Desdemona had to be furious at her, which wasn’t good but it wasn’t new either.

New, indeed, was the fact that she was fully determined to put up a fight, this time. To go at it with nails and teeth and every ounce of her that burned. She was ready. The world was cruel and big and dangerous, but it wasn’t scary anymore. Not enough to hold her back.

Roselind told all of that to Desdemona, when her sister ran to her as soon as she got to the castle, angry and screaming and absolutely terrified. She told her while being held tight as she’d ever been to her sister’s chest, feeling between her hair fingers she wasn’t used to see as careful. She didn’t know whether she’d actually heard or not, but she was sure of her decision and proud of her journey. She had been preparing for this.

What she  _ wasn’t _ prepared for was seeing her mother, beautiful and gentle and smiling as she approached her with a religious care, a hand tight into Eva’s to draw strength. She didn’t tried to fight back the tears, when Aurora held her, burying her face over her shoulder and letting everything go, all at once, feeling the rage and loneliness melting away from her body as she cried tears of joy and sadness into her mother’s dress. Miriam ran towards them, joining the hug and pulling both Eva and Desdemona with them, all of them pressing tight around Rosalind’s body. 

She was  _ home _ .

She was never leaving again.

Later that day, she brought Eva around with her as she walked around the castle, a stranger in what had been her own house, as excited as she was melancholic. She wanted to ask her to stay, to get to know her better, to lend her a hand in the process of growing into herself, to find a place and freedom and something to let grow, like those beautiful flowers and vines she had saved both of them with.

She also needed her strength to cross the doorway to her room, the cursed and sacred spot were she’d found her beloved father a thousand lives ago. If still hurt the same way. She told Eva about him, sitting over her old bed, she talked about the pain, about the magic, about the loneliness she’d harvested inside her chest year after year. Eva held her hands and nodded and responded, letting her pry inside her heart, slowly touch her pain that was deep and dark and hard to heal, understand her magic, beautiful and different, her loneliness so akin to Roselind’s.

Hours later, when the sun was setting and their voices were low and raspy from all the talking, Rosalind leaned towards Eva to kiss her. It was gentle and sweet, blessed by the warm light of the sunset. It was a dream. It was a promise. It was a beginning.

\---

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was a determined, unlucky girl, blessed by nature and magic in the most marvellous and enchanting ways that the world, always fearful of beautiful and special things, couldn’t comprehend. She thought she was destined to be alone, as everyone does, cursed to roam the universe as far as her feet could take her, step after step, only to never find shelter.

Somewhere else, some place near and cold high up in the sky, a stubborn princess with a flaming heart thought that too, cultivating her loneliness close to her fear, posing her hopes on a narrow window frame. She had also been blessed, with an angel voice no one could hear and the power to heal broken bodies and tired souls, but never her own.

Maybe, both the girl and the princess were destined for unhappiness. To chase life and purpose and love endlessly, brushing each other without ever touching. Yet one day they did, defeating the odds, and so they let their fingers and hearts intertwine, they took turns resting in each other arms, exchanged kisses and sweet words and sweeter dreams.

Happiness, they had learned, was neither a blessing nor a curse. It could not be dangled over one’s head, or given as a gift, or found in ancient chests, hidden in forgotten caves.

So it didn’t really matter at all, to them, whether they were destined for it or not. They were busy caring for each other wounded souls, dancing slowly under hints of moonlight, living and loving so hard happiness would be the one having a hard time to reach  _ them. _

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow us on tumblr for more sleep deprived fun times [cristina](bestpizzahoe.tumblr.com) [michelle](clawsnbeak.tumblr.com)


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